


If you are exposing yourself to passion, (there will also be tears of beauty)

by MatchaMochi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancer! Yuuri, Dancer!Victor, Gender Roles, M/M, ballroom dancing au, inspired from a tedx vid and welcome to the ballroom!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: ‘Not much.’ Pauses, ‘I heard he’s the best dancer in Japan. Lots of competitions won…. put up quite a name for himself in the Japan International Dancing Championships. They call him the- ‘‘Wild Dancer.’She purses her lips, glances at Victor, ‘Yes. Because his wins and his losses. When he dances he shines and makes his partner prominent, more beautiful, but in other times, he fades away like a ghost and so does his partner. Its inconsistent. Wild.’ She giggles, ’I’ve been reading too much exaggerated articles lately.’





	If you are exposing yourself to passion, (there will also be tears of beauty)

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, Yuuri snaps his fingers when he’s agitated lol (im totally projecting)

 

_‘One, two, step,’_

The sweltering heat of the dancefloor, the tension of hundreds of bodies as they move together, fluidly, in time and in movement.

_‘Step, one, two,’_

The cold sweat running down his neck, the heavy weight pressed closed to his, the- the _lights_ shining down on them and the audiences and their cacophony.

He slips.

‘ _One, two, ste- ‘_

She holds him steady while he bit back a panicked gasp. Sara Crispino, (beautiful and firm, kind and positive. He does not deserve her) squeezes his hand quietly in reassurance and Yuuri feels out of his depth. Feels like drowning in heat and movement. He thought he’d be used to the foxtrot by now.

‘ _S-step, one, two….’_

When it ends he sinks down to his knees, covers his face with his hands. Sara does not say a word, she places a hand at his shoulder and stays until it is time to leave. At the studio, she does not pretend to be surprise when he says ‘ _sorry’_ and ‘ _I can’t do this,’_. His back is fragile and small as the distance between them grows, Yuuri doesn’t have to tell her he’s not coming by again tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even the day after that.

Its fine. She knows his type of goodbyes, the one she receives is of a regretful friend pleading for time and space. It’s not her place to stop him. It is a sad, sad, thing though.

Katsuki Yuuri could have been so much more.

-

-

He regrets attending the ball as soon as he tasted the champagne. Not nearly what he needs right now, he wanted something stronger. Then again, maybe he should’ve rejected Chris’s offer and stayed the night haunting the bars in town instead.

Victor sighs. He contemplates on leaving the lavish charity event his friend had dragged him to, thinks about dancing at the centre of the ballroom, but pushes the thought to the side as soon as he remembers the eyes thrown at his form. His reputation is one he rather has hidden, he doesn’t want to end up dancing with everyone in this room.

“I can’t believe it!” Chris’s voice is teasing. Warm and comfortable with the trickle of alcohol as it sidles up to him. Victor tries not to smile and fails, “The _best_ dancer in the world doesn’t want to dance?”

He shrugs, wonders why the suit he’s wearing right now feels a little too tight. “Even the best dancer in the world needs to rest.”

Victor gets a pout for that and a loud reprimand to relax and have fun. Talk. Victor doesn’t know. It feels like all this time he’d been talking, through dancing, interviews, photoshoots. It’s not his fault no one had been listening close enough to understand what he had really meant.

He passes his empty glass to a waiter and hangs his head.

He doesn’t want _this_. He wants-

A sudden, loud laughter interrupts his desperate thoughts.

Victor turns around and finds that he had wandered unconsciously near the centre of the ballroom. He turns around again when he hears quiet titters invading the room but then it transforms into a loud roar and he blinks. He sways back, his breath punched out. As sudden as the body that had knocked over him. It is another man. He has dark hair, big brown eyes and red cheeks.

The man is smiling something dopey at him, and Victor blinks and blinks and blinks. His breath reeks of champagne as he staggers back and bows ungracefully at him,

 _“_ May I have this dance?”

A thick accent, a hopeful smile thrown his way. Victor does not know what to say. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and his throat is closed with confusion. The other gives him no chance anyway,

“Come,” his eyes sparkle, pulls him in like the hand around his wrist, “Dance with _me,”_

And he does.

 

A month after, he buys himself tickets and heads to Hasetsu, Japan.

-

Victor skips merrily with a bouncing brown poodle in tow, calls it _Makkachin_ and the dogs lolls its tongue at him in reply. The streets are peaceful and quiet, the wheels of his luggage thunders silently on the pavement. It is serene in a way winter holds its breath for the coming of spring.

As he walks steadily to the Onsen he recalls the conversation he had with his former partner;

_‘Victor you asshole, you’re going to leave me with Yura. Do you know the damage control Yakov have to do if he rages on in the studio?’_

_He felt sorry for her, and had gave her an apologetic look before gracing her with one of his brightest smile, ‘Mila, look on the bright side. I know you’ve always wanted to dance with someone other than me. You can manage on your own, I know you can.’_

_Mila, with her red hair and blue eyes. And him with his silver hair and the same set of eyes. The well renowned brother-sister duo of ballroom dancing. There had always been rumours though, leaking through the edges of toxic media and the whispers from the internet._

_That they were not actually related, that they had a relationship. That Victor was clearly the superior one, and thus Mila was nothing without him so they had agreed to lie to the public. Victor had hated it so much that he’d never failed to mention in any interview that Mila was his beloved_ half-sister _and that she was just as much a strong dancer with or without him._

_He wants to give her a chance to grow. So, when Yuuri had happened it had seemed like a sign to him. A signal in the right direction, a call for destiny. He will leave Mila with her own dreams and he will chase his. All in a dramatic fashion of course._

_‘Victor…who is waiting for you? In Japan?’_

_He takes a while to answer her, smiles quietly to himself._

_‘Mila, how much do you know about Katsuki Yuuri?’_

_He gets a startled look for that. She gapes at him but snaps it shut just as quick when he smiles at her mischievously. She looks away, and says nonchalantly,_

_‘Not much.’ Pauses, ‘I heard he’s the best dancer in Japan. Lots of competitions won…. put up quite a name for himself in the Japan International Dancing Championships. They call him the- ‘_

_‘Wild Dancer.’_

_She purses her lips, glances at Victor, ‘Yes. Because his wins and his losses. When he dances he shines and makes his partner prominent, more beautiful, but in other times, he fades away like a ghost and so does his partner. Its inconsistent. Wild.’ She giggles, ’I’ve been reading too much exaggerated articles lately.’_

_But it had been true. Victor had had the opportunity to taste it. When they danced it wasn’t just him and Yuuri, it was them. One entity. A different person, dancing in tandem. Victor had been puzzled at first, at that charity ball days ago._

_Waltz was supposed to be easy for him, why was Yuuri making it so difficult? He switches leads with Victor without thought, and it had taken him a while to get used to. Yuuri had beamed at him when he’d stopped fumbling with his arms and had whispered,_

_‘This is much better. Trust me.’_

_Curiouser and curiouser._

_‘Articles of him, Mila?’ he looks to the side, smirks, ‘or his partner?’_

_She’d blushed then, swatted his arm with a pout. He laughs at her, delighted to know he was right about one thing; Sara Crispino has many admirers. Mila too, had not been missed. Another thing digs at his mind though,_

_‘Do you know why he stopped dancing?’_

_Mila offers no answer. She shrugs,_

_‘It’s been a few years Victor. All I know is that ever since his last WDC, he never stepped foot in another competition since.’_

_Victor mulls it over, taps his bottom lip absently. It’s clear that Yuuri had been practicing. How then had he danced so fluidly with Victor? Especially in the intoxicated state he was in? But if he hadn’t been entering competitions, what was his real objective? There are rational reasons behind this, Victor knows. Yuuri may have had too much love for dancing, just like him, to let it go just like that. Or maybe…maybe Yuuri was unsatisfied with something. Maybe he wanted to find what it is that had been aching in his heart all this years. Just like him._

_The conversation had ended with hugs and a couple more teasing. Mila locks the door to her room after that. He doesn’t mind, every once in a while, he sends her pictures of Sara and she sends him smileys and pictures of Yura’s sour face in return. All of it accompanies him as he lands in Narita Airport. Makes him give out a small smile as he sees a picture of Mila carrying Yura off the studio as he takes the long ride to Hasetsu._

_And now._

Victor stops abruptly at the wide entrance of the Onsen. Tilts his head to the side.

‘ _My family owns a bathhouse in Hasetsu…you should come visit! And! And if you come to m-my studio- I’ll show you!’_

Yuuri’s eyes had stared him down so earnestly then he was afraid it might shatter. Victor still remembers the hot breath brushing his neck from that time.

_‘I’ll show why I dance the way I do. Does that make any sense? Victor just- ‘_

He had caved, had reached up and brushed Yuuri’s soft cheeks with his thumb,

‘ _Dance with me?’_

And he had nodded. Red at his ears and face, arms heavy with the weight of a half undressed _beautiful_ Japanese dancer.

He looks down at Makkachin and pets her softly.

His heart’s still beating too fast for his liking when he enters the building, but it doesn’t really matter since Yuuri wasn’t in it anyway.

-

-

Distances away from the bathhouse, at a dance studio sitting above one of the most visited bars in town, Yuuri snaps his fingers in irritation when he tumbles from a simple box step. He picks himself up again, brushes down his pants and clicks his heels together. Looks up.

The lights in Minako’s studio isn’t as harsh as the one in Detroit, its cream coloured and soft. He looks to the wall of mirrors around the room, at his figure. Much too stiff to be ready for a dance. He lets out a long breath, moves his shoulders up and down in an effort to relax it.

The black shirt he’s wearing is already sticking to his skin from sweat, the floor around him absolutely wet with it. He bites his bottom lip. It’s not perfect. Clearly, he needs a partner to do this.

 He had considered calling on Sara, years ago. But he’s not that selfish. She has made a name for herself now. Now, without Yuuri dragging her down, she dances with her brother with grace and beauty. The Crispinos are one of the most intimidating pair in ballroom dancing right now right next to the Nikiforovs. He doubts they can go over Mila and Victor though. Yuuri who had been avidly following the pair ever since he was introduced to the basic box step right here, in this studio, knows the Russian pair too well to know that it takes a lot more passion and talent to overcome them.

Had considered asking Yuuko, his childhood friend and partner in dancing in his teenage years. But it wouldn’t be fair, she has Takeshi now. Her dance partner, as well as her life partner. Three beautiful daughters to take care of, and Hasetsu as her home. No, it wouldn’t be fair at all.

For this, he needed someone that was willing to throw everything to dancing, to survive the onslaught that was bound to come. Someone he can trust, lead, and follow.

Yuuri sighs to himself. He gives up for today and heads to the room tucked in at the back. This room is small and dark. Often lit only by the lamp on the desk. It is fine, during the day, the sun lights it up from the window at the side. There are papers upon papers pasted haphazardly on the walls, scattered across the table, stray ones falling to the floor.

On those papers, are drawings upon drawings of dancers, male and female, female and female, male and male. Frozen in action, yet lithe with motion. Random notes are scrawled all over them. Words like ‘ _Aesthetically pleasing?’_ or ‘ _Just a relic, and yet,’_. Others like, _lead_ and _follow._ And lines pointing down on various parts of the dancer’s body; _head, hips, torso, thighs and feet._

Yuuri frowns at them as he pulls off his dancing shoes. Then shrugs, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

He was never much of an artist, sketching is something he became used to when these dangerous ideas had plagued his mind. He sighs again, those are what they will only be he supposes. Just ideas.

_BAM!_

He stares, wide eyed as Minako rushes through the studio. Her hair in disarray, her face flushed with exertion. The minute she spots him she grabs his shoulders and starts to speak to him excitedly. Then, Yuuri’s world falls around him and he feels something numb creeping in his fingers.

“Yuuri! Its Victor! He’s- he’s _here_! He’s in the Onsen he says- “

His breath hitches.

“He says he wants to see you _dance,”_

_-_

_-_

It takes him a while to acclimatise, with the sudden hurricane that was Victor Nikiforov. He wishes it was easy and simple. But he doesn’t know anything about a charity ball all those nights ago, so he doesn’t know the invitation and promise he had made for himself. It becomes difficult and complicating.

Hard and confusing, like the smile Victor throws at him and the perfect build of his torso. And the swell of his buttocks. Yuuri has tried many, many times to look away but when you’re bombarded with a tall enthusiastic Russian every time you go bathe its quite impossible really.

It is _perfection_ too.

Victor Nikiforov steps into the dance studio with black pants and a white dressing shirt. Bows and offers a hand to Minako, all confidence and grace. She is pleased but tries to hide it by shaking his hand briskly.

When they dance, it takes Yuuri’s breath away. There’s something overwhelming when professionals take to the floor. Admiration and will floods his senses and makes a thought wiggle in his mind, ‘ _what if I was the one beside him_?’. Just as quick, fear strikes up his spine. He retreats yet again to the room behind the studio.

A knock comes outside his door, followed by a hopeful voice, “Yuuri, will you dance today?”

Yuuri twirls his pencil, crumples another paper and throws it in the small bin already overflowing with other balled up, crumpled papers. He swallows thickly.

“Not yet Victor, tomorrow maybe.”

And tomorrow comes, and tomorrow goes.

And he does not dance.

-

-

It’s week number two when Victor finally snaps. If Yuuri does not want to come to him, he will come for Yuuri. But first, he needs to know what is in that damn room behind the studio. It’s not as difficult as he thought it’d be to obtain the key from Minako, though the guilt pressing down on him makes it a little difficult for him to take step inside.

Its musty, inside. A study room, if nothing else. And small, the desk at the side itself occupying half of its space. Then Victor sees the papers, and the drawings. He does not understand the writings in Japanese but some are written in English: ‘ _foxtrot’, ‘feather step’, ‘salsa’, ‘tango’_ and _‘waltz’._

He drifts towards it, magnetised. Roves his eyes around each and every one of them. Then there, sitting on the table. A half-drawn sketch of two dancers at quickstep. They have no faces but it is clear by the clothes that they are both male. One of them has dark hair, slicked back. The other is fair, and has hair that covers where one of the eyes should be.

“I wanted to show you that today.”

He snaps to Yuuri, hunched back at the door. His throat feels dry.

“Yuuri, what…” he frowns, “Is this why you haven’t been dancing?”

Yuuri doesn’t reply. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Victor shakes his head, “I don’t understand. Yuuri what is this? What are you trying to tell me?”

Yuuri clutches his hands together and twiddles with his thumbs. He looks to Victor, looks back down to the polished hardwood floor. Pushes his glasses back up to his face and finally gives out a shaky whisper.

“Come,” he offers a trembling hand, “I’ll show you.”

Victor takes it.

-

-

It’s the box step again. Victor tries not to get a little too disappointed.

Yuuri has placed his glasses gingerly to the side, his shoulders were still too stiff in Victors opinion but when he’d smoothed down his hands down Yuuri’s back, Victor feels a shudder running down and flushed cheeks, red spreading down to his neck.

‘ _I-it’s okay! Its fine,’_

Was it? He eyes Yuuri closely from the side lines. Notes the determined look on his face, the sigh as he finally releases the tense lines of his back, his steady hands and strong legs. Yuuri turns around and their eyes meet. He does not look away.

Then, Yuuri moves. And then, Yuuri speaks,

“Those…notes in the room…they were ideas. Possibilities.”

Victor cocks his head inquiringly, “Of what?”

He takes his time answering him. His shoes click, he takes a breath,

“Classic, Latin and ballroom dancing isn’t just a system of dancing. It’s a way of thinking, of being. Of relating to each other that captures a whole period of values.” Yuuri pauses, looks warily at Victor as if afraid he might think Yuuri strange. Victor nods at him to continue.

Yuuri bites his lip, “There’s one thing that stayed consistent though; the man leads and the woman follows. It doesn’t matter which dance, _he_ leads, _she_ follows.” He wavers in his next step, “It has never sat right with me. Why was it the way it was? Why do I have to take a role I have never always been comfortable in? Why must my partner look up to me always?” his voice shrinks as it goes on but rises again, “And then just as suddenly. I realise. This was gender training. You weren’t just learning to dance, you were learning to man, and to woman.”

Victor stiffens, then straightens his back. He doesn’t dare interrupt Yuuri.

“It’s a relic. This idea.” He’s starting to sweat, but his voice does not falter, “and in the way of relics, you don’t throw it out but you need to know that this is the past, this isn’t the present.”

Suddenly, he drops his hands and stares at Victors direction. His eyes are glazed, looking at something Victor cannot see.

“So, I asked myself, if I strip it all down, what is at the core of partner dancing?”

Yuuri sways to the side, and raises his arms again. It is still box step. “Well, the core principal of partner dancing is that one person leads, the other one follows. The machine works the same regardless of who takes which role;” He laughs,” the physics of movement doesn’t really give a crap about your gender.”

He looks again, at Victor, calls out his name, “When you watch ballroom, you don’t just watch what’s there, you watch what’s not.” He sighs. Victor startles when Yuuri snaps his fingers while his mouth twists in dismay,

 “A couple is always only a man or a woman, together. Only. Ever. Same sex couples are barely recognised on the floor and in many cases the rules prohibit them completely.” Shakes his head slowly, “I know you’re fairly aware of the absence of mixed races- “Victor smiles dryly at that, tries not to grimace.

“But even in the white-straight couple only paradigm, _she_ can’t be taller, _he_ can’t be shorter. She can’t be _bolder_ , he can’t be _gentler_.”

Yuuri takes another step, this one is fierce, another, and it confirms the confusion and anger under his skin. Victor does not know where this is going, he feels as if someone was picking every little thing wrong that he has lodged deep in his heart and was flashing it back at him. And through it all, Yuuri ploughs on,

“If you would take a ballroom dance and translate it into a conversation, then dropped that into a movie, we as a culture would never stand for it. He dictates, she reacts. No healthy relationship, gay or straight, or anything that we regard as remotely functional looks like that.” Yuuri tries not to hiss it out. He runs his fingers through his hair, pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes another step,

“And yet somehow, you put them on prime time, you slap some make-up on it, throw the glitter on, put it out there as _movement_ , not as text, and we as a culture, tune in and clap.”

There are unshed tears in his eyes. Victor discerns the sadness in his voice, the anguish in his tone.

“We are applauding, our own _absence.”_ Yuuri shakes his head again, “Too many people have disappeared from partner dancing because of this.”

He has a tight grip on his knees, Victor does not want to sound hopeless as he asks Yuuri this,

“Then what would you have done, what would you have changed?” he should not have said the next, but he is confused, and hurt. How come he had not realised all this sooner? Has everyone been raising him to think like this? Had he planned on carrying this heavy heart of his until his legs broke and he leaves the floor forever discontented?

“Was leaving competitions all you have to do _Yuuri?”_

Yuuri freezes. Stays still for a long time. No, Victors breath hitch, he shouldn’t have said that at all.

His back is trembling, his hands clenches, and unclenches.

“Yuuri I- “

He shakes his head quickly, already moving to the next step. His lip is wobbling and Victor has never felt this bad in a long time. His words come out soft though, after an awkward moment passes by,

“The standard image that the leader must be larger and masculine, and the follower smaller and feminine, this is a stumbling point.” Yuuri licks his lips, his arms are getting tired “I wanted to look at this, from a totally different angle. What if I could keep the idea of lead and follow, but leave the idea that this was connected to gender?”

He moves closer to Victor now, his brown eyes alight with a different kind of fire,

“ _Further_ , what if a couple, could lead and follow each other, and then switch? And then switch back? What if it could be like, a conversation?” Yuuri smiles a small smile, “Taking turns, listening and speaking. What if I could dance like that? I called it ‘liquid lead dancing.’”

Victor wrinkles his eyebrows. ‘ _Liquid…. lead?’_

Yuuri finally stops moving, he’s breathing heavily, but only just a little. His rumoured stamina wasn’t just an exaggeration it seems.

“With a simple tweak, the dance could change from a dictation, to a simple negotiation. Anyone can lead, anyone can follow, and more importantly, you can change your mind.”

One. Two. Victor counts the steps Yuuri takes towards him, it moves steadily and with surety. And he stops just shy of touching his arm. Yuuri has his hands held out but he quickly changes his mind and grips the edges of his shirt.

“Victor,” soft and low, “I-I can show you how. I mean, I’ve never tried dancing it with another man before but I think…”

He does not hesitate, if you dig deep enough, this was the only sole reason he had come to Japan after all. To feel Yuuri and him, together, in sync. He grins, “Tango or salsa?”

Yuuri blushes, shakes his head, “Waltz, actually.” And their hands finally touch.

His skin is warm, slightly sweaty. Victor immediately leans in, taking in the feel of Yuuri, his smell and warmth. His mop of dark hair and his pale skin. _His brown eyes_ , Victor thinks, as it stares right back at him while Yuuri’s body assumes the position of the lead.

He smiles at Yuuri and Yuuri reddens and looks down. Looks up again and continues, “Liquid lead dancing. It isn’t just a system of switching leads, it’s a way of thinking that they can actually make the dance itself, more efficient.”

He starts to shift, pulls Victor and him into the first step, “The waltz is a turning dance, this means for the lead that you spend half of the dance traveling backwards, completely blind… at least, that’s what it was like for me. And, because of the follower’s position, basically no one can see where they’re going. I’m sure you know, Victor. There are a lot of accidents that have happened, as a result to this blind spot.”

Step, step, turn. Absentmindedly, Victor believes the long pillar of Yuuri’s neck to be absolutely divine.

“But what if the partners were to just allow for a switch of posture for a moment? A lot of accidents could be avoided.” Yuuri shifts, whispers ‘ _switch’_ right next to his ears. Victor doesn’t know if he feels the shiver as they changed positions. “Even if one person leads the waltz and allows a switch to happen for one moment, it would be a lot safer while offering new aesthetics to the waltz. Switch.”

And it goes on. They switch and turn and he is tipped back but after another turn he is greeted with the half-lidded eyes and sensual face of Yuuri as Victor dips him and twirls him around. And is twirled too. It is… _invigorating._ A ’conversation’ was that what Yuuri had called it?

“Switch.”

This was so much more than in the charity ball.

“Switch.”

This was him and Yuuri. Yuuri and him. A question and a soft reply. A joke and a ringing laughter.

“S- “

Victor laughs, a breathless happy sound, and swings Yuuri to the side. Smiles at Yuuri’s perplexed face, “Switch?”

“Yes...” and they dance on.

Victor has no idea how long it was until Yuuri’s voice finally breaks the peaceful silence, though it wasn’t as loud as the squeaking of their dancing shoes, of the tap of their heels.

“I’ve…tried liquid lead dancing with Minako before. And this one time, Yuuko, my childhood friend I told you about, was there as well.”

Victor hangs his head to the side, hums, and switches. Yuuri doesn’t need to tell him anymore, the movement of their bodies are words in itself.

“And you know what she said? She said this: It wasn’t just that we were switching lead and follow. It was that we stayed consistent in our presence, our personality, and our power. Regardless of which role we were playing. We were still ‘us’.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, opens them with content and a smile,

“And that’s where the true freedom lies, the freedom from being defined in whichever role you’re playing. The freedom to always remain true to yourself. Forget what a lead and follow was supposed to look like, let a masculine follow, or a feminine lead. Just be yourself.”

Victor stiffens. His back too straight, his hands too tight on Yuuri’s. Is he trembling? He does not know. Yuuri is looking at him in concern, what kind of sorry face is he making right now? He pushes it to the side, continues their dance. ’ _What else?’_ he asks, low, his voice rough.

Yuuri watches him carefully, worry on his face before he replies, “I… I dance partner dancing all the time and I love it. But,” he rubs small circles at the back of Victor’s hand. It might have been an unconscious move. Maybe.

“I danced with a consciousness that this, _this_ is a historic form that can produce silence, and invisibility across the spectrum of identity that lives today. I created liquid lead as a way of stripping out all the ideas that don’t belong to me and taking partner dancing back, to what it really always was,” he stops, suddenly.

He turns his head slowly to the mirror beside them, at them. At their sweaty skin and their strange but beautiful figure. At Victor, the best dancer in the world. Then, he looks at Victor. Victor who has wonder and enchantment in his eyes whenever he looks at Yuuri, and he says,

 “the fine art of taking care of each other.”

-

-

The next day, they come to the studio together. Then, they dance, the Cha cha, Rumba, Swing, the Samba. And the next, Tango, quickstep, foxtrot, mamba. And the next. Jive, waltz and Viennese waltz, Bolero, Paso Doble.

The days passes by like this;

They head to the studio together with Makkachin and dances until their feet are sore and their backs are aching.

The days ahead are more like these,

They dance and dance, but they also create, contemplate and demonstrate. To make liquid lead dancing come true they needed to analyse every movement, every step, in every dancing. And as Minako brings in more and more students and dancers from her contacts to show them this dance, Victor and Yuuri needed to make sure it covers all, that it was as solid as it should be. The room behind the studio becomes, if possible, even more crowded with papers and notes.

When he made sure he and Yuuri was ready, finally, Victor tells the world. His phone rings and rings with calls from distant acquaintances, curious reporters. Then from his dear friend Chris and from his sister Mila, from his teacher, Yakov and of course, a loud angry one from Yura. They all conveyed their support for him and Yuuri, in their own little ways of expressing quiet gratitude to something that had been a long time coming.

This is his life now, him and Yuuri. Yuuri and him. Against the world.

“Victor? Victor!”

He blinks, comes back to the conversation he was having with Chris on the phone,

“Hmm, yes?”

“When are you going to tell him? I’m sure he’s not _that_ oblivious but you can’t just wait forever Victor,”

He hums again, presses his bottom lip,

“…tomorrow. We’re going to visit the beach. I’ll tell him then.”

“Good. And good luck, _mon Cherie,”_

“Thank you, Chris.”

He’s going to need a lot of it.

-

Turns out, he doesn’t need any.

As the sun sets on the horizon, Yuuri caresses his cheek with trembling hands and thundering veins. Brushes his lips, feather soft, against his. ‘ _Is this okay?’_ a scared whisper in the cacophony of the rush of blood in his ears. He wants to laugh, wants to cry.

Yuuri has taken the first step towards him,

‘ _One, two,’_

It’s only obvious that Victor meets him here, so he kisses Yuuri more firmly and takes the second step.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic’s dialogue is 99% stolen from this [video](https://youtu.be/_mq-HqRnngc). Guys please watch it, it’s so good. I’m gonna leave this AU here probably forever so I don’t mind at all if anyone decides to write about it, in fact, please do! MTMC is still in the works.  
> And yes, to confess, ever since welcome to the ballroom came out I’ve been meaning to write at least one ballroom au for these guys ahaha. I honestly have never danced before so correct me if theres any error in here.
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly, kudos and comments are highly appreciated! Let me know what y’all think!


End file.
